


I'm Lovin' It

by alphaofallcats



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Food Service, Civilian Tim Drake, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Don't copy to another site, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, M/M, McDonald's, Tim Drake Birthday Hunt Exchange, Tim was never Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26174704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphaofallcats/pseuds/alphaofallcats
Summary: They settle for a shitty cupcake from a gross diner near downtown. Dick runs it back out to the car, cradling it between his palms like some precious gemstone. He’d talked the waitress into giving him a candle too, so when he settles into the seat he lights it before handing it to Tim.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 149





	I'm Lovin' It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wintersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/gifts).



On the nights that Dick is too exhausted to suit up, too self-critical to eat another hearty dinner of chips and cereal, he goes to the drive-thru McDonalds. He’s not so much a man of routine, it’s just that he’s a single guy with no desire to cook and a workout regiment that balances out the cheeseburgers and nuggets and fries. Sometimes soda, if he’s desperate and plans on parking the car and eating in the lot. 

One night, he’s got his music going a little too loud; it’s some mixtape that’s self-indulgent and the employee behind the speaker can hear it. 

“Welcome to McDonalds, how can I— _ohmygod_ is that Bon Jovi?” 

“Yeah, it is,” and his hands tighten around the steering wheel when the voice on the other side starts laughing. 

“Holy shit— oh, wait, fuck,” The person is giggling, and if Dick wasn’t so offended he’d find it contagious. “I’m going to get fired for cursing, okay, let’s start over.”

There’s a short pause and Dick can hear the guy take a deep breath before he says, “Welcome to McDonalds, how can I help you?” 

He orders a burger and fries and the person tells him to pull up to the window. 

A high schooler with dumb messy black hair and pretty blue eyes is waiting at the window, kinda smirking and kinda laughing.

“Dude, Bon Jovi is so ten years ago. What are you, eighty?” 

“What are you, four?” Dick points to the kid’s chest. “Your shirt’s inside out.” 

The kid bites his tongue, the tip peeking out between his lips as his cheeks flare red. Self-consciously, he tugs at the hem of his shirt as he shrugs. “Touché.” 

Dick pays and when the kid hands over the bag of food he says, “Did you know that spandex leggings went out of style forty years ago?” 

Dick rolls up the window and drives off. 

\---

The next few times at the drive-thru are uneventful, and Dick wonders if the kid did get fired, after all. Then he questions why the thought bothers him so much. 

\---

The fake cheery voice is unmistakable. When he pulls up to the window the kid’s smile is all too blinding even in the evening light. 

“Hey! Spandex guy!”

The kid seems so excited to see him that it’s almost touching.

“Spandex guy? You gave me a nickname?”

“Your shitty taste in music was traumatizing.”

“What are you, like, 14? Listening to some zoomer hipster lo-fi beats.”

“Ok, boomer.” 

They don’t say anything else. 

\---

The next time Dick pulls up to the speaker and the kid’s voice rings through the static, he can’t help but smile a bit, despite himself. 

“Hey, Hipster Zoomer Edgelord, can I get a cheeseburger and fries?” 

“Hipster Zoomer Edge-Lord...? What the _fuck_ — Spandex guy?” 

“The one and only.” 

When he pulls up to the window and pays and reaches his hand out for the bag, the kid holds it out but doesn’t let go. 

Before Dick can say something the kid sets his shoulders determinedly and licks his lips. “Look, so I maybe made you a mixtape and was waiting until I saw you again to give it to you. It’s in the bag.” 

“A mixtape?” 

He refuses to meet Dick’s eyes, twirling his finger around a loose thread on the sleeve of his workshirt. “Yeah.” 

Dick smirks. “Mixtapes are such a 90s thing. Isn’t that so 20 years ago?” 

The kid’s eyebrows scrunch as he says, “I will spit on your food,” before slamming the window shut. 

\---

The next time they meet, the window opens and the kid breathlessly blurts out, “Tim.” 

“...Tim?” Dick asks, raising his eyebrows. 

The kid nods. “Yeah, that’s my name.” 

Dick points at his shirt. “Your name tag says Alvin.” 

Tim’s shoulders hunch up, defensive as he huffs, “Dude, we are way too close to the red light district for any of the employees to be using their real names.” 

They exchange money and food and before he pulls away he holds his hand out. “I’m Dick.” 

Tim leans forward on the windowsill, a light flickering in his eyes, smirking, “It’s nice to meet you, Dick, but you’re holding up the line” 

An impeccably timed honk screeches behind them and Dick drives away with his finger in the air. 

\---

The next time Dick pulls up to the window he says, “I liked your mixtape” 

Tim beams, and Dick’s night doesn’t feel so dreadful.

Dick doesn’t remember the date but he knows it’s on a Thursday night that the kid doesn’t sound right. He pulls up to the window and Tim gives him a weak smile but there’s tears in his eyes. 

“You okay, kid?” 

“Probably not,” he says around a garbled laugh. 

“Want to talk about it...?” It’s not like he’s holding up a line or anything. It’s 2am and the place is deserted. 

Tim bites his lip, thinking, before he nods and says, “Yeah, yeah... pull up into one of the spots, I’ll take my break.” 

He brings out Dick’s food and two milkshakes and slides into the passenger seat and they don’t talk for a long time, until Tim says, “I told them I was going homesick.” 

Dick swallows his mouthful of fries and says, “Well, I don’t feel much like sleeping right now, want to go for a drive?” 

(And Tim’s so fucking distraught he just agrees, only later realizes if Jason knew he was driving in a stranger’s car, near the red-light district, he would freak out on him.) 

Dick doesn’t ask questions, lets the music fill the silence. Dick can still hear Tim’s sniffling though, and can see him rubbing his eyes raw out of the corner of his eyes. He pulls over at some parking lot that’s near a bus station at an overpass. It’s high up, they have a good view of the city, spread out beneath them. 

Tim turns the dial on the dashboard to turn the music off, sucks in a shaky breath, and says, “Do you ever feel out of place?” 

Dick nods, head swimming with big empty mansions and silent rooms. Of other kids wearing his boots, and the long distance between Gotham and Blüdhaven. “Yeah. I get feeling out of place.” 

Tim heaves a breath. “I just remember every so often. It was easy to ignore for a while but tonight… my parents are away again, I don’t fit into their life, really. Never have. And I realized I don’t fit in with my _own_ life.” 

There’s a pause before Tim just says, “They kicked me out. I’ve been 18 for less than 24 hours and they told me I needed to be out by the weekend. Which doesn’t make sense, they’re never home, and I know they sometimes say they never wanted a kid, it’s just—”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” 

“My friend will put me up, I didn’t tell him yet, he had a lot to do tonight for... his work, but he’s cool, he’ll let me crash at his place. I’ll figure it out.” 

Dick nods slowly and after a while, he flicks the side of Tim’s milkshake and says, “This is honestly no way to spend your birthday, let’s go get cake.” 

They settle for a shitty cupcake from a gross diner near downtown. Dick runs it back out to the car, cradling it between his palms like some precious gemstone. He’d talked the waitress into giving him a candle too, so when he settles into the seat he lights it before handing it to Tim. 

“I’m not singing to you.” 

Tim shakes his head, a wistful smile curling his lips. “I don’t know who that would be more embarrassing for, you or me.” 

He looks up at Dick, and Dick’s heart is doing some awful sputtering because Tim’s eyes are glowing by the light of the flame, and he’s smiling finally, a smile he hasn’t seen before, one that’s honestly happy, and Dick wants to kick himself because since when was he taking note of the way this kid smiles? 

“This... thank you, for this.” 

Dick wants to blush but instead, he says, “Just make a wish and blow it out.” 

And Tim closes his eyes really tight for a moment before blowing out the candle. 

They split it, and spend the rest of the night playing each other songs from Dick’s ancient iPod. 

When Dick finally pulls up to drop Tim off, he parks the car and says, “Hey... you know how I said I wouldn’t sing to you tonight?” 

Tim nods and looks at him hesitantly, as if he’s afraid Dick might do just that. “Yeah...” 

“Well,” he shifts in his seat a bit, leans across the dashboard until his lips are hovering near Tim. “I’m going to do this instead.” 

He kisses him, so soft and careful, and it’s such an innocent kiss, nothing dirty or arousing about it, but it makes his heart hammer in his chest when Tim kisses him back.

Tim tastes like chocolate frosting and milkshake, and there’s an underlying current of cigarettes somewhere, and he smells an awful lot like frying oil and grease and cheeseburgers, but Dick still loves it. 

When they pull away, Tim climbs out of the car and heads up to the door. He pauses before going inside, turning to wave and calling out, “Thanks... for making my wish come true.” 

And Dick is kinda too stunned to say anything so he just nods and Tim grins at him and turns and goes inside.


End file.
